Five Times
by modernxxmyth
Summary: The meaning of life, who the real Mr. Sawyer was, and what makes Kate tick – puzzles for him to solve. Sawyer contemplates the mystery of Kate. Set during the pilot. Skate. One-shot.


**A/N: **Skate one-shot, set during the first episode. Sawyer's thoughts on Kate.

* * *

_**Five Times**_

He remembers the first time her saw her. In the wreckage, Kate looked so scared. It was a moment of vulnerability. Sawyer could see in her eyes, though he did not know them as well as his own heart as he does now. Her eyes told him that she had a desperate sort of fear in her. It wasn't fear of the crash – it was fear of its effects. She kept her hands clenched together, and they shook with the slightest of tremors every so often. She rubbed her wrists as if they stung. She looked like she wanted to run. Run away where ever her body may take her. Her feet were itching to move.

These were the things Sawyer took note of the first time he saw her. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, but that was not the way things were supposed to happen. He tore his gaze away from hers. He would not allow her to see _his_ fear.

* * *

He remembers the second time he saw her. The fear in her eyes had lessened and given way to something else – sadness. She was removing the shoes from a body, one of the many victims of the crash. Sadness pooled in her wide eyes. Remorse filled the air around her.

The bald guy was watching her too and smiled at Kate with an orange peel in his mouth. Was he trying to get a laugh? Kate just stared. At him, at nothing, at everything. She stared unflinchingly and went back to her task. There was a job to be done. Sawyer wondered what her name was.

* * *

By time three, he'd discovered her name. Kate. It tasted sweet on his lips, but he wouldn't use it. He didn't use names. The third time he saw her, he talked to her, as well. She talked to him first, of course, because he was never one to initiate contact. He was a loner.

"So you decided to join us," Kate stated more than questioned.

Sawyer smirked and continued walking behind her. He liked the view, after all, and it was quite a good one. "I'm a complex guy, Sweetheart."

He would not use her real name.

* * *

The fourth interaction brought physical contact. He grabbed her hand to help her up as she struggled on the cliff. He felt the electricity when their hands touched. It sizzled and burned his fingertips. It surprised him. Kate had a hard look in her eyes – all traces of fear and sadness had been replaced – when he reached down and leant her his hand. She seemed damn near reluctant to take it. Why? Was she so fiercely independent that she could not stand the thought of receiving help?

Then again, Sawyer too had never depended on anyone but himself. He himself was the only person he could trust. Maybe Kate had a similar philosophy.

Maybe she'd had her own mountains go climb.

With a strong hand and a heavy heart, Sawyer pulled Kate up their mountain.

* * *

Their fifth interaction brought intrigue.

She turned a gun on him.

Independent, indeed.

"Does anybody know how to use a gun?" Kate asked innocently, gun aimed on Sawyer.

But he saw something in her eyes. She knew how to use a gun. She was just playing a part in the game like everyone else. He suspected she'd used a gun before, maybe more than once, and not on a shooting range. He stared _her_ down, not the gun's barrel.

"I want to take it apart," Kate stated after the Brit, Charlie, made a remark about just pulling the trigger.

_You know how_, Sawyer thought. Everyone else seemed to buy her innocent little pacifist act, but he didn't.

"I know your type," he told her.

Kate looked defiant. "I'm not so sure."

Wasn't she?

"Yeah," Sawyer's words were smooth. "I've been with girls like you."

Kate stated with power, "No girl's _exactly _like me."

Christ, she was a mystery. What _was_ the secret in her guarded expression? He'd told her he knew her type. And conceptually, he did. He knew girls that could be compared to her. Girls with hard eyes and fierce demeanors. Girls pretty curves and brown hair. He knew her type in some ways. But he was starting to think she didn't fit the mold – that she didn't have a type at all. Two days in, and she was already one of the biggest mysteries he had to solve. The meaning of life, who the real Mr. Sawyer was, and what makes Kate tick – puzzles for him to solve.

She acted so innocent. Almost naïve. But he wasn't buying what she was selling.

Kate was a puzzle.

He couldn't wait to solve her.

fin.


End file.
